Without hesitation, she took the mud from Viktor and smeared it over her neck and chest.
Evander exhaled hard through his nose.
With clear misgiving, he dragged his hands through the mud and streaked it across his chest.
Viktor rose to his feet.
“Let’s go.”
A hand touched his shoulder.
He turned—and found her there.
“Who are you?” Amerei asked softly, her fingers light against him.
He shivered at her touch, the world narrowing to the space between them.
For a moment, he couldn’t answer.
Then he reached up—reluctant—and guided her hand away.
“Captain Viktor Seraphim,” he said, voice rough. “I was sent to find you. To take you to your father.”
“Thank you, Captain Seraphim.”
Her words were quiet, but her eyes lingered—long enough to haunt him.
She nudged Evander, who muttered, “Amerei and I were ready to wait all day in that pit, if we had to.”
Viktor gave a short nod and stepped forward, trampling the thorny vines that clawed from the earth, clearing a path for them. They moved with care, stepping over broken branches and shale, attuned to every sound.
“Hiding was a good idea,” Viktor said, eyes scanning ahead as he adjusted his canteen strap. “You could never have outrun that thing.”
Evander spat into the dirt.
“Do you even know what we’re up against, soldier?”
Viktor’s jaw tightened.
“A dragon,” he said at last—clipped, certain.
“Bred for war. Pulled from nightmare.”
Amerei’s gaze flicked to the treetops, her voice low.
“It will come back.”
Viktor met her eyes.
“And I’ll be ready for it.”
His gaze flicked to her tunic—ornate, embroidered—yet beneath it she wore soldier’s leggings. Practical. Unafraid. Both she and Evander wore high boots, caked in mud. The deeper it got, the more Viktor wished he’d worn his own.
The trail curved back into view, light filtering through the canopy.
Viktor raised his hand, listening.
His eyes swept the trees.
